


pick up the broken pieces and weld them together

by kryouma



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Cyberpunk, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryouma/pseuds/kryouma
Summary: in which hinata and kageyama fight, go their separate ways, grow into their own people, and meet on the court once again.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Kudos: 32
Collections: Haikyuu Valentines





	pick up the broken pieces and weld them together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tenowls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenowls/gifts).



> the prompts i used were cyberpunk and angst with a happy ending, the ship it features is kagehina, and oikawa makes an appearance!

1.

“Were you drunk?”

Hinata jumped, that loud yell was enough to make anyone startle. He felt a shiver go down his spine, he’d know that voice for years, every crack and tremble of it, but never had it been so filled with unbridled rage. 

“I was...” He paused. “Tipsy, I think.”

“Bullshit.” Kageyama spat. “You were wasted. Do you even have a vague  _ idea  _ of what happened?”

“Nothing?” Hinata gulped. “I hope.”

“Nothing?” Kageyama growled. “Nothing? Are you kidding me?”

Hinata raised his arms, hoping to placate the man in front of him, the man he loved. The man who, he hoped, still loved him. It was not enough.

Kageyama laughed darkly, brokenly. “We’re out.”

Hinata’s vision swam, he dropped his hands in shock. They...couldn’t be out, could they? Everything they’d worked for, everything they’d ever done...and then they were out, just like that? Kageyama had to be joking, right? He had to be, there wasn’t any other way.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Kageyama laughed. “You did a great job, didn’t you?”

“But it wasn’t my—”

“Wasn’t your fault?” Kageyama stopped, icy blue eyes fixing Hinata in place. “You really want to say that?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Hinata said. He was sure he hadn’t.

“You went in there and blew our shot!” Kageyama screamed. “What do you mean you didn’t do anything!”

“Tobio, I—”

“You seduced Oikawa.”

Hinata felt the argument in his throat curl up and die. He couldn’t believe Kageyama’s words. He couldn’t believe himself. He couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Had he— Had he really? The thought of those words made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, so you’re speechless now,” Kageyama said flatly. “You certainly had a mouthful for  _ Oikawa Tooru _ , though.”

“I’m so—” Hinata stuttered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Do you even remember what you did?” Kageyama spoke, not a hint of emotion escaping. “I don’t think you’re sorry.”

_ Crack _ . 

It was near impossible to tell what Kageyama was thinking. He’d retreated back into his middle school years, his shell of unsociable behaviour Hinata had spent years tearing away. It was all piling back. Hinata watched years of friendship, of comfortable since, of awkward blushing, of coffee shop dates, of training, of partnership, of  _ love _ , crumble away.

He couldn’t breathe.

“It was on the show. It was literally your audition tape for the show.” Kageyama said. “It was our one ticket out of this garbage dump.”

_ Crack _ . 

Hinata felt the shame gnawing at him, tearing a hole into the paper-thin membrane of his lungs, ripping apart his stomach. He was choking. He couldn’t stay here,  _ he couldn’t stay here _ . 

“I thought that this was as much your wish as it was mine.” Kageyama’s expressionless face spoke words that were volumes more hurtful than his anger.

It was Hinata’s dream. He wanted out of this dump, out of this rancid, festering pit of washouts and failures. If he stayed here long enough he’d be drawn into their ways and become just like them, just like their mirthless lives and putrid smiles. He’d had enough of just the plain scraps of age-old machines thrown his way, he wanted to be a star. He wanted to build, he wanted to be the best at building till there was no one who could call him small or crazy or idiotic or dumb or—

“We’ve already lost, Shouyo.” Kageyama said. 

_ Crack _ . 

Kageyama still used the word  _ we _ . Like they were still some sort of team. Like the prodigy would have any trouble getting on his feet. Like they were still in this together. 

_ Crack _ . 

“Together?” Hinata scoffed. “You’re making me laugh. You’re the  _ Selfish King, _ when have we  _ ever _ been together?”

Hinata felt it all shatter. 

Hinata looked at Kageyama who stood, stock still and silent. A minute fracture in his stone-cold gaze betrayed a fraction of indisputable sorrow, but it was gone as soon as it came. 

“You’re right,” Kageyama said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “I  _ am _ the  _ Selfish King _ . I don’t need you anymore, Hinata.” 

Kageyama took off the gloves he was wearing, the gloves he’d been wearing since Hinata gave them to him. They were beautiful gloves, incredibly made gloves, Hinata had spent months perfecting every enhancer and thruster, every small balancer and supporter, hell, he’d even added radio transmitters and lights in Kageyama’s favourite colours. Kageyama slid them off his hands gently, though, there was no anger in the action. He held them gingerly for a moment, they were precious, something he knew no one could replicate. 

Hinata reached out a hand to stop him. Kageyama places the gloves in his outstretched hand softly. 

Kageyama turns towards him with a careless, reckless smirk he hadn’t thought would ever return to his face. 

“Bye.” Kageyama says, walking towards the door. 

He doesn’t look back, but waves a bare, ungloved hand before he walks out. He leaves the door open, letting the freezing cold bite at the shattered pieces of what they once considered forever. 

Hinata knows that it’s over. Hinata knows that he’s out. Hinata knows he’s got to work harder, even harder, because there’s no one who loves him, once again. 

  
  


2.

Hinata spends days pouring over the gloves, observing every chip and resistor, every circuit breaker and wire. He scrounges all the previous prototypes and blueprints he can find. He wonders if the resilient material of the gloves prevents bruising and injury. He wonders if Kageyama is doing okay without them, if his hands are worn once more. 

He thinks to how he can utilise the prototypes to make boots or boosters. He wonders if Kageyama would jump higher, longer if he’d had had them. He wonders how magnificent Kageyama would have looked in them. 

He measures his own shoe size. 

He finds it funny that he doesn’t need to think about Kageyama’s measurements, but has to redo his own. He wonders if Kageyama knows him the same way he knows Kageyama. 

He throws all of their trophies in a corner. 

He walks to the junkyard to collect scrap material to make the boots, after all, a competition had just gotten over and all the old materials and items were thrown away, sent to dump of a town. this dumping ground, his sorry excuse for a hometown. Hinata sighs, annoyed and appalled by the gall of the competitors to just throw away perfectly useable gear.

He isn’t complaining, though. As he traces his well-known path to the scrapyard, he wonders if Kageyama still remembers laughing and joking about all the useless things they could make with the parts left behind. He wonders if Kageyama remembers how they’d make small, stupid prototypes of useless machines when they couldn’t figure out just how to make that  _ one particular feature _ . 

Hinata gathers scraps of circuit boards and metal polished to a mirror-like glow. He sits in the scrapyard and works and works and works. He works till it’s too dark to see, then goes home and works some more. He can’t stop, won’t stop until he’s finished, well and truly perfected what he needs to, has to do.

Hinata pours over the blueprints and prototypes of the gloves, and makes a pair of shoes in their image.

They are matching, in colour and design, in idea and emotion. They are matching, like the single earring Hinata still wears, the one he tries hard to not envision where the other one lies. It’s their mark as competitors, as people who were once a team. They cannot be removed, lest they want to forfeit from the game forever. Hinata knows he cannot get a new tag until he passes all those tests again, now all on his own. He’s been training. It’ll be easier this time, it’ll be easier if he just works hard enough. Which he will, he’s always worked hard.

This time he’ll work so hard, he’ll come out on top for sure.

He runs, and runs, and runs like there’s no tomorrow. If Kageyama’s strength is his hands then Hinata’s is his legs, and to get anywhere near Kageyama’s sheer mastery, he’s going to work harder and harder and harder than ever before. He runs, and he jumps, and he jumps and he jumps. He spends three days running only laps, then moves to finally pick up that orb.

He feels his whole body shiver, covered in the fluorescent light the orb emits. He tosses it up into the air once, experimentally. It moves in a clear, smooth arc and lands in his hand. He turns it over, gingerly touching its surface. He can feel Kageyama’s hands on his, showing him the correct form to toss, to serve, to receive. He feels Kageyama’s warmth close to his skin. He opens his eyes, and hisses at the sudden loss of heat as he’s flung back into his cold reality. He tosses the ball into the air, and slams it into the other side of the court with all his strength. It moves with remarkable speed, but Hinata doesn’t need to rush to meet it. He merely moves at a pace he’d now consider jogging, and meets it with a light hit to send it into the air, just enough so he can hit it into the other side with enough force and at a high enough velocity to create a small crater.

He smiles, smiles brighter than he ever has before. He feels Kageyama’s eyes on him, the tiny smile that stretches the corners of his lips almost imperceptibly, the soft chuckle that escapes him. He sees the slight tilt of his face, the nod of pride. 

He sees that Kageyama is no longer there.

He jumps, higher than a nearby tree. He screams, then sprints back home. To their house, tho their workshop, to his table. He sees it, and sighs. 

Hinata’s desk is cluttered with prototypes and finished samples by the time he finally collapses from exhaustion at the end of the week. He sleeps for three hours before jolting back to work. He’s surer than ever before that this is what he’s meant to do, what he was made for.

  
  


3.

Kageyama is not sure what to do when he leaves. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry, he’ll figure something out. He doesn’t really need to figure something out, though. He knows exactly what he has to do. He’s got his hands with him, and they’re the only companion, the only tool he needs.

He looks for his old gloves in the backpack he stashed by the remains of what was once the Central Tower. Everything he once had is now back with him, all his middle-school gear. He looks at the carefully designed, well-crafted seams of his gloves and tears out the core of his watch. He knows exactly how to use it now.

He’s not sure what stopped him from doing it before, what stopped him from supercharging his abilities. He supposes it was the notion of a ‘team’. Not that teams were necessary to get by in this world, not any more. He was free, unshackled. He could feel the raw power coursing through his body. He felt his fingerpads tingle, he felt them sting. 

For the first time, he focuses that energy, the sheer adrenaline it sends shooting through him. He holds an orb in his palm and stares at the court, he knows exactly where he must throw the orb and exactly where he must catch it. He runs, a calculated arc cutting through the circumference of the orb’s path, and intercepts it with so much force, it cracks the ground where it lands. He feels strong, he feels good,  _ so so _ good. He feels powerful. He knows that nothing can stop him. 

He practices this strategic throw and catch until the tips of his fingers go numb. He stops for a second, his first break since he started, his breathing erratic. His eyes are unfocused, his vision is blurring at the corners, his feet feel like they’re about to give up at any minute. He finds that he doesn’t mind it. He finds that this is the first time he’s felt so, so  _ at home  _ in his own skin. He sheds his thick winter jacket, steadies his breathing and throws the orb in the air, his eyes closed. 

He runs, his ears adeptly focusing on the gentle, almost imperceptible  _ whir  _ of the orb. He hears it and moves to follow it, he feels it draw closer and swings. 

He makes contact. 

He watches the orb make a perfect arc through the air, it glides over the net and lands exactly where he wants it to. He watches his success as a smile spreads across his face, he’s grinning from ear to ear. He’s finally got it now. He retrieves the orb and tries again.

He keeps going, pushing himself until he can barely breathe, but it feels  _ so  _ good, he doesn’t know if he wants to ever stop. The rush is incredible, addictive, and he’s never felt more alive, more fulfilled than he does now. He loves it, so he moves to serve, again and again and again, until he’s on the verge of collapse. He stops then, sitting under the shade of some nearby building’s wreckage. A carton of milk is pulled out, a small, frivolous pleasure in an oppressively digital world, and is sipped gently. His breathing is heavy, like his lead-filled limbs, and sore, like each cramped muscle.

It doesn’t stop him from accessing his dial when he hears the  _ ping  _ of an incoming message. He pulls up its screen almost immediately, looking for the source of the noise, looking for that message, that one message. Kageyama finds the chat, sees the contact and freezes.

He’s not sure if he wants to do this, wants to be a part of a team again.

His mind recalls flashes of curly orange hair, his vibrant smile, and that  _ awful  _ television broadcast. He sees soft hands, joyful moments, laughter and smiles. He sees a smirk, a seductive smile, his hands on someone else. 

His mind cements, his decision now solid. 

He replies to the message. It’s just a quick ‘ _ sure, I’ll join your team _ ’, but Oikawa reads it immediately.

  
  


4.

When Hinata reads the roster for the teams, needless to say, he’s more than a little shocked. He’s glad he’s made it in, he’s glad he’s in one of the top positions, but what irks him is that he’s still coming second to him. He sees his name under Kageyama’s and sees red. He feels like a childish middle schooler again, but he can’t help it. He’s trained for months to get where he is now, only to be shown up by Kagyeama again. Just like before. He feels bad, justifiably so, but it still hurts to have it shoved in his face again. 

He should have expected it. Prodigies last forever, he supposes. _ Prodigal contestant Kageyama _ had a knack for the game, the field, everything about it. He could play the whole game on his own, it was said. Hinata knew it was true, he’d seen Kageyama in action, seen him glide smoothly across the court with incredible grace, seen him drive the orb home with insane force, seen his eyes dart over the playing court before setting an impossible shot. He was graceful, possessing a beauty unlike any other. It made Hinata crazy, made his heart crazy. He couldn’t find it in him to hate him.

He could feel anger seeping into his veins. He could very well hate himself, for his folly, his mistake, his oversight. For thinking that Kageyama wouldn’t be back in the game as soon as, no, even sooner than him. For thinking Kageyama didn’t love the game as much as he did, wasn’t as devoted to it as he was, didn’t give up as much as he did for it. Kageyama trained as hard as he did, Kageyama had wanted this as much as he did.

Hinata was a fool to think Kageyama would drop that for him. Just because they were a team, once. 

He hadn’t noticed how much Kageyama had grown because they’d grown together, as a team, as a pair. They’d grown to complement each other, but that didn’t mean that they hadn’t been strengthened immensely as individuals. Hinata just hadn’t noticed. 

For just as much as Hinata seemed the sun between them, he was but a moon, reflecting Kageyama’s carefully strategized light. 

He hated it, that realization in particular, for it meant that Hinata was not the star of the show. All eyes wouldn’t be on him, he wasn’t a clear winner. He had no idea how this match would end, and it would most likely not end in his favour. He felt insignificant, and that made him furious. He entered the court calmly, however, and that was when the realization hit him.

The Selfish King was now under the wing of The Great King. 

It was a funny kind of horrifying, a horrifying kind of right, and everything seemed to be more real now. It was liberating in a way, he thought, maybe Kageyama had moved on. Maybe he had decided that what Hinata had done wouldn’t affect him, his life, his game. Maybe he’d accepted out of spite. Maybe Oikawa had proposed a new idea, something he couldn’t refuse. 

He makes eye contact with Kageyama and is unsure of what to do. Kageyama just stares for a moment, his gaze as unwavering as he is inscrutable, then gives him a thumbs up. Not conventional, but neither is Kageyama, Hinata thinks. He’s just glad it wasn't awkward, no, he’s glad Kageyama doesn't seem to hate him. 

The bell rings, and Hinata watches Kageyama walk onto the court, supported by Oikawa and Iwaizumi, before he walks on, alone.

  
  


5.

Kageyama sees Hinata alone and wonders if he is going to play as well as he used to. He knows that he is stronger with a team, he knows Hinata is stronger with a team.

He also knows that Hinata makes his own support items.

He looks at his hands, ungloved and raw, and can almost see Hinata’s hand-made gloves on them. He knows he doesn’t need them, that he’s never needed them, but his hands feel empty without them. He shakes away the thought, all that matters is that his play is much stronger, much more powerful without them.

Hinata’s eyes are dark, set ablaze by the strobe lights, and when he tosses the orb to serve he seems almost predatory. He throws it high, impossibly high, and moves to meet it in the air with impossible speed and impossible reach. He swings, and when he makes contact the sharp, strong sound creates ripples of astonishment in the stadium. It lands in his court, right in front of him. Hinata lands, making a perfect arc to finish his jump, but never takes his eyes off him. Kageyama looks at the orb on the court, and at the boy in front of him. He thinks to the boy he knew and knows the one in front of him is not the same. The boy in front of him is so much, so so much more. The boy in front of him was once the boy he knew, but not anymore. Not ever again.

But if it’s a game this boy wants, Kageyama sure as hell will give it to him.

While Hinata readies himself for the next serve, Oikawa tells him to watch Hinata’s feet and match where they’re going to be. To not guess, but know where they will be. He watches Hinata fly in the air, the movement of the orb bending to his will, and sees the slight turn of his feet to the left before he moves his hand. Just as he moves his hand, just before it makes contact, Kageyama runs to the left and readies his posture.

He receives the orb, and it’s up in the air once more. He looks at Hinata and smiles.

The game is harsh and gruelling, dragging out all four sets, deuce and deuce and deuce and finally a win. He knows the ache in his bones, the dull throb in his fingertips and knows that he’s got to push himself, got to go above and beyond and more, if he wants to win. And he wants to win, he’s always wanted to win.

He watches Hinata move, large and flashy, cross-court more often than not. He moves to meet him, not as fast, not as accurate, but he has Oikawa and Iwaizumi to make up for what he lacks. He knows where he’s supposed to be, where he should go, but he’s nowhere near Hinata’s godlike lightning-quick speed and agility, but if Oikawa is closer to where it looks like it’s going to land, Oikawa gets it with no problems. 

It’s a hard game, Hinata is more powerful than he’s ever been before, nearly bursting at the seams with raw power. He looks at Hinata like he’s the sun, shining bright, so bright, and he remembers why he shunned him from his thoughts. Hinata’s warmth, his smile, his light are all so powerful, so beautiful, how could Kageyama hold up against that brilliance?

Hinata is shining, burning bright, and Kageyama is but a spectator to his glory.

Kageyama smiles, the rush feels good. He’d almost forgotten what playing against Hinata was like. What the sheer adrenaline rushing through his veins meant. What it meant to love Hinata, what it meant to fall for his radiance so incredibly hard he couldn’t get back up again. Kageyama feels something besides just powerful for the first time in a while, and is glad he does. 

He’s proud of Hinata for making it to the showcase match, for making it to the top two, for giving it his all despite their history. He’s proud of Hinata for not giving up, for smiling and waving to the crowd after the match is termed a tie after they lay locked in deuce for one too many points, for looking at his team and congratulating them without any hesitation before making it clear that he’ll win next time.

He looks at Hinata as if he were the sun, for he has now become one, a fiery star in his own right, his own glory.

  
  


_ +1 _

_ Oikawa grabs Iwaizumi and leads him away after the match, earning him a smack on the head. He wants to watch the two interact after their big showdown, he says, and Iwaizumi grumbles but comes along with him anyway. It’s not too far away that he spots them, and he supposes they’re talking. _

_ He knows all too well what the events that transpired that night were, the events that caused all of this. He knows it would have turned out different if things had happened any other way. _

_ He watches Hinata look hesitant about what to say, awkwardly fiddling with his hands. He figures that it’d be hard for anyone to admit they were wrong about such a thing, but for Hinata's pride it was especially so. Hinata stutters for a bit, before he finally yells out his confession.  _ Good _ , Oikawa thinks, _ it was getting pretty annoying for a minute there _.  _

_ Kageyama is visibly shocked by Hinata’s rapid decibel increase, as anyone that close would be. Perhaps, though, he’s still getting accustomed to not hearing those shifts as often. Oikawa notices that Kageyama is a bit more on edge than usual today, his nerves particularly frayed. _

_ He watches them talk for a bit more, Kageyama shaking his head quite vehemently and Hinata gesturing wildly before they finally come to some sort of an understanding.  _

_ Kageyama pulls Hinata close, they stay there for just a moment, contemplating whether this was really a good idea, before Hinata kisses him. It’s short and quick, but Oikawa knows that it’s the only conclusion those two need. _

_ He’s suddenly hit on the head and winces in pain. He swivels around almost immediately to see Iwaizumi standing there with a disgusted look on his face. _

_ “How cruel, Iwa-chan!” He cries. _

_ “Shut up, you pervert.” Iwaizumi responds, rolling his eyes. “We’re leaving. Now.” _

_ His wrist is grabbed and he’s yanked away. He spares one last glance at the two to see them now holding hands and sitting on a nearby bench. He sees Kageyama smile, a pure smile that he hasn’t seen since they were kids, and watches Hinata give him a pair of gloves.  _ Perhaps they really were meant for each other _ , Oikawa muses, before Iwaizumi practically shoves him into a taxi, giving him the softest of smiles. _

Yeah _ , Oikawa thinks,  _ there’s no one else out there who loves just quite like them _. _

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry this is so late, please forgive me! 
> 
> this is the first time i've written angsty content and i dug myself into an even deeper hole with every sentence i wrote. i cried writing this, so i had to tie it up with some sort of nice ending, right? 
> 
> also: omg tenowls??? your art legit blew me away, it was so good! the anatomy? the colors? the style? 20/10 man!!! it's so beautiful i died!! wow. omg. love it. you are insanely talented. 
> 
> have a great day! you deserve it, you incredible human!!


End file.
